How Did We Forget To Battle, Of All Things?
by entzunden
Summary: The first date Riley has been fantasizing about for years is by no means perfect, but it will do.


**Author's note:** This takes place between Chapters 3 & 4 of _Haruba Jones and the Judgment of Arceus_ ; reading it is not a requirement for this one-shot (but I sure would be appreciative if you did!). I've had the first date in mind for a long time, and finally wrote it to cheer myself up. Be advised this does take place in Auraverse canon, and may not be 100% faithful to DPPt. If you like Ironshippy romance, I'm sure you won't mind the minutiae.

"Brickbreak Mountain" was coined by ~HyperGinger some time ago. I said I'd use it in a fic, this was the one I had in mind.

CW: much alcohol consumption and giddiness on Riley's part. Please, please correct my Spanish if it's off.

* * *

It actually happens far too easily. Riley states his intentions and makes arrangements for a nice, quiet, private date. Byron, stunned and flustered, sleeps on it and agrees the next morning. Though Riley could argue they've already stepped into first date territory — catching up over drinks in the secluded cabin on Iron Island, taking the extra bedroom because it had gotten so late — he keeps it to himself and treasures the memory.

Back in the city, Riley has checked into a nice hotel while Byron returns to his apartment and his gym. The date is set for the coming weekend, giving Riley plenty of time to prepare. A homecooked meal and a movie in the privacy of Byron's home, as agreed. Riley is beyond excited. He's been waiting for this for far too long. Whether his old mentor is humoring him or not, Riley will do his best to win his heart.

Byron flings open his door, and he's dressed rather neatly, tan slacks and a black polo shirt that's faded from time. His expression is somewhat listless and apprehensive; he's nervous. He's legitimately _nervous_.

Riley tries to lighten the atmosphere for him. "Why, we match."

Byron looks him up and down, comparing their brown pants and black shirts. "Aw, hell. I'm gonna change."

"It's fine. No one will see us." He steps inside and closes the door behind him. With one arm he holds onto a full paper bag, ingredients for the dinner he'd promised to make. "Mind if I get started right away?" he asks. "It'll take a couple of hours."

The kitchen is directly across from the door, through the living room. Riley remembers being here for a couple of months after he, Byron, and Roark stayed on Iron Island all summer ten years ago. It really doesn't seem to have changed much. The familiarity makes him smile — that is, until he sets down the bag and takes in the cluttered, filthy kitchen. There are dirty dishes all over the counter, along with take-out containers that should have been thrown away days ago. Something brown has been spilled and dried on the stovetop. And there's a giant cobweb in the window above the sink. Riley snatches the groceries back into his arms.

"What?" Byron asks. Then he looks over at the clutter like he's seeing it for the first time. "Oh… shoulda cleaned, huh? Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Riley musters all the courtesy in the world for him. "Let's just stick this stuff in the fridge for now and clear some space, at least." He starts to hand Byron the bag, but clutches it to his chest as he realizes he should inspect the refrigerator for himself. There could be a colony of grimer in there, for all he knows.

The fridge, by contrast, is fairly safe, mostly because it's nearly empty. The whole bag fits right on the top shelf. So Riley rolls up his sleeves and gets to work clearing the counter, with Byron helping as far as Riley telling him what to do, like load the dishwasher and fill a bucket with soapy water. For a moment, Riley wonders if they should forget this and order in, but since he's already promised to make a special meal, that's what he intends to do.

When it's all finished, Riley steps back and admires the clean surfaces. It's a start, at least, and will do for tonight. "Hmph," Byron mumbles. "You sure about this? I may not know how to, y'know, date, but I don't think it starts with cleanin'."

"It's fine. Now I can finally get started." Riley retrieves the ingredients and starts unpacking on the nice clear counter.

Byron grunts, scowling a little. Just as Riley is about to ask him what's wrong, he says, "Oh yeah. I got somethin' too." Opening one of the cupboards, he procures a bottle of wine. "Uh… hope it pairs well. I dunno nothin' about it… had to ask an'… yeah." His voice trails off as he looks away.

Riley grins. All things considered, this is going a lot better than he anticipated. "This will do nicely with our roast," he says, studying the label. "Excellent choice."

"Mm… good." He still looks away, scratching the back of his neck.

Setting the bottle down, Riley steps into his line of sight. "Byron, relax. I asked you out so we can catch up more and get to know one another better. You don't need to impress me."

"Gotta try a li'l bit, though," he answers quietly. "Place is a mess, dunno what to wear or say…"

"You're doing fine so far." Riley holds back his delight. That Byron is so concerned means that he truly cares about how this evening goes, and isn't just humoring him. "Now, then. We'll never get to eat at this rate. Could you fetch me your vegetable peeler?"

"Th' what now?"

Riley holds a potato in his hand. "I see. Paring knife?"

"Uh…"

"Oh dear."

He finally starts peeling with a utility knife over a cutting board that hasn't been washed fully. As he's trying to identify the remnants, the knife slips and slices his thumb. The half-peeled potato rolls away and into the sink.

"Oh gods! Oh gods…" Byron repeats, panicked. He rips off a paper towel and shakily wraps it around the bleeding thumb. "What do I do?"

Riley squeezes it. "Do you have bandages?"

He nods frantically, bolting to fetch them. Riley calmly follows to the bathroom. "Let me wash it off first."

"Okay. Sorry. I got— I'm sorry." Byron stands in front of the sink holding a roll of gauze, paralyzed.

"You have to move." Riley pats him with his uninjured hand.

"Sorry!" He jumps back.

After close examination, the cut isn't very deep. Nothing that antibiotic ointment and covering for a few days won't fix. Byron adds a few more woeful apologies, followed by a deep sigh when they return to the kitchen. "Sure you wanna go through with this?"

"Of course." Riley rinses off the troublesome potato with his good hand. Then he finishes peeling it and the others; the thickly-wrapped bandage on his thumb proves decent protection from the blade. In due time, potatoes, peppers, and the roast have made it into the pot together, finally in the oven.

"Now what?" Byron asks.

"Now we have a couple of hours to kill."

"Oh. Uh…"

Riley thinks about teasing what they could do, but naturally decides to be courteous. "Shall we open the wine?"

"Now? Thought it was for dinner."

"Well, don't drink it all."

"Ditto, you lightweight."

He has to laugh. During that first evening in the cabin, one bottle of ale went straight to his head. "I promise. Besides, I think I earned a little painkiller." He waggles his thumb.

"Does it hurt? You need to change the bandage?"

"It's too cushioned to hurt anymore. Don't fret so. Your parental instincts are showing."

"Can't help it. Roark got into so many scrapes, 'specially when he was little an' careless." Byron lets out another heavy sigh.

"Well, good thing I'm a grown man," Riley quips, pulling out a chair at the small dining table. The table is covered with papers, more empty food containers, a few interesting rocks, including a claw fossil — there's no dining here.

"Y-yeah." He digs in a drawer to find a corkscrew. Riley is surprised he owns one, especially since there aren't any wine glasses. They have their drinks in juice glasses instead (thankfully made with actual glass, rather than the plastic aerodactyl-print cups).

"It's good," Riley approves after a sip.

"Is it?" Byron takes one too. "Huh. Yeah, not bad. But I dunno a thing about wine."

"Neither do I."

"Heh, seriously? Thought you'd be an expert on that. Since you're a gourmet and all."

"Am I? I had no idea."

Byron lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Guess I wouldn't really know, since you been gone for ten years."

"And you barely wrote to me," Riley reminds him.

"Yeah… jus' figured you were livin' it up. Datin' rich guys, goin' to classy parties… that kinda stuff."

"That was a long time ago, and only the one. The one who left me for his ex, mind you." Bitterly, he takes a gulp of wine, draining his glass. Just like before in the cabin, when this person came up.

"Right, sorry." Byron hastily gives him a refill.

"Mostly I just wandered around the countryside. I guess you could say I was a homeless drifter. Just me and my pokemon, finding ways to make money. Not exactly the paragon of class."

"Yeah, but…" Byron pauses, takes a drink. "You're… _you_. You'll never lose it, look at you now."

Riley doesn't hide his flattered smile. "Is that a compliment?" he asks, leaning a bit closer.

Now Byron drains his glass, and pours a generous second while looking flustered. "More like… what's someone like you doin' at a place like this? Cleanin' my kitchen and cuttin' yourself. You don't belong here."

Riley sits back. "You… want me to go?"

Byron's head snaps up. "Uh…"

"I get it, this is too much. I show up suddenly after ten years and insist, but you clearly see me as someone inappropriate for you. Different lifestyle, different class… and still far too young, I suppose." He scoots the chair back.

"That's not what I meant!" Byron exclaims. His voices raises, but it's more out of panic than annoyance. "More like… what's someone like you see in me? I'm jus' some old… guy… " He drains his wine in one swig, and his rugged face is turning red.

Riley feels his heart swell. "You're not old, Byron. Old _er_ , yes… that's what's so attractive about you. I always did like older men. I did at fourteen and I do now."

He gets even redder.

"Small wonder Steven didn't work out, we were the same age. Still boys back then. I'd much rather have a man." He seizes the opportunity to reach for Byron's arm, squeezing his massive bicep. "Especially such a strong one."

Byron's face is almost as red as the wine. "Geez… you can still do better."

"Nope." Riley scoots closer, still holding his arm. At this point he'd love to kiss him to drive his point home, but he must play more slowly with Byron. It's honestly charming that this tough former miner, one of Sinnoh's strongest gym leaders, is so bashful right now.

"Heh," Byron chuckles, "I think you're gettin' tipsy already. Cheeks're red."

"Yours too." Riley pokes his face with a grin.

"I'm the one who can hold his booze, remember? Let's save this for dinner." He takes glasses and bottle to the counter, leaving Riley to speculate that alcohol wasn't the cause of all Byron's blushing.

He makes Riley get up and walk around the apartment, showing off his treasures: various fossils and photos of Roark. Riley hasn't yet been to Oreburgh, so he's delighted to see how Roark has grown over the years. At eighteen, his features aren't like Byron's at all, save for hair hue. Does he take after his long-absent mother? Was she the one who needed glasses?

He keeps these questions to himself, naturally. Instead, seeing the most recent photo of Roark in front of the Oreburgh Gym prompts him to ask Byron for his own gym stories. He happily obliges, which passes the time quickly until dinner is ready. They use the dining table after all, once Byron pushes off some of the clutter. It turns out better than Riley expected, what with all the mishaps. Byron raves over every bite. On top of that, they finish off the wine. Riley must now convince himself that his hearty meal soaked up most of the alcohol, and that he's not totally tanked.

"You, uh, still want to watch a movie?" Byron asks as they carry their dishes to all the clear space on the counter. "That was the idea, right?"

"Of course." Riley is ecstatic that this evening is going so well. Unfortunately, he's also prone to giggling every other second. He almost suggests some other activities, and laughs under his breath at the idea. No, he is a perfect gentleman and model date.

They move to the living room area, where Byron points Riley to his shelf of DVDs. "Whatever you want. 'Fraid it's mostly old westerns and Roark's shows from when he was a kid… not a great selection…"

"Are you kidding? I love classics." He doesn't actually process the titles until one in particular stands out at him. "Oh my gods, Byron. You have _Brickbreak Mountain_?"

He grunts, looking more embarrassed than ever. "Don' judge me."

"Not at all! I never got to see it. Missed an important gay rite of passage, didn't I?"

"Naw. I don't think _you_ ever needed to pass any rites."

This strikes Riley as impossibly hilarious, and he doubles over chortling, steadying himself on the shelf. Byron watches carefully, almost ready to spring forward should he topple over. "Okay. You had way too much wine. C'mon." He hurriedly pops the disc in the player and guides Riley to the couch. "Sit. I'm gettin' you some water."

He flops onto the cushions, snickering. _This is bad,_ a little voice from within cautions. _You got plastered on your first date, you're going to make a terrible impression. Don't say what you're thinking. Here he comes,_ _ **don't**_ _blurt it out like horny jackass._

"Alright." Byron sits down beside him, handing him a cold glass.

"You're so thoughtful." Riley takes a sip. "You're not going to take advantage of me, are you~?" _Tonto, eres un tonto,_ his inner voice chides.

He laughs a little nervously. "Why, y'want me to?"

Riley leans closer to him. " _Si tu quieres,_ " he invites, voice dipping lower.

"Uhh…" Byron blinks, tugging on his collar. "I dunno what you said, but… uh…"

"Oh. Oh no, _lo siento_. I'm sorry. This is not the first date I wanted to have." He snaps out of horny jackass mode, staring at the bulbous bandage on his thumb.

"Eh, it's entertaining, to say the least." Byron grins. "Just don't get sick. Drink up."

Riley nods while he presses play, so the critically-acclaimed modern western romance begins. He sips his water slowly throughout, and when it's all gone, he stumbles to the bathroom. He prays he's hallucinating, but it may be even dirtier than the kitchen. But he keeps it to himself as he plops back down on the couch, suddenly exhausted.

"Alright?" Byron asks, holding the remote.

"Mhm. _Gracias_."

He chuckles for some reason, unpausing the movie. Riley leans against him, resting his head on his wide shoulder. Slowly, cautiously, Byron's arm slides around his back, pulling him closer ever so slightly. Smiling, Riley closes his eyes, and the movie's dialogue and soundtrack drift in and out of his senses.

The next thing he knows, the credits are rolling. He groans, sitting up slowly. "I missed it…"

And Byron moves his arm, stretching it out in front of him. Have they been sitting like that for more than an hour? "Can't believe I fell asleep," Riley mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"You had a big day." Byron smirks.

"Mmn… I was gonna clean up, too." He starts to get up only to fall back into place.

"That's enough for tonight. You need to go to bed."

"Yeah." Riley starts with sitting up straight this time. "Alhabor can walk me back— wait." He slumps back again, defeated. "All my pokemon are back at the hotel. But it's not _too_ far… I think I can make it…"

" _I_ can walk you to your hotel. Least I can do after all this."

Riley simpers at him. "Aw, so romantic."

"Heh…" Byron's face turns a little red, like earlier. "Or, uh… if you want… you can stay here."

This wakes him up considerably. "Well, this disastrous date just got a whole lot better."

"I meant in a spare room!" Byron shouts, blushing furiously.

"Doesn't the only other room belong to Roark?"

"Yeah, but he's not usin' it. If you don't mind a small bed an' a bunch of dinosaur pokemon toys starin' at you."

Riley laughs. "Maybe I'll just sleep on the couch. It's pretty comfy." He pats the cushion.

With a spare pillow and blanket, he sleeps through the night, and is awakened by some clattering from the kitchen. He finds Byron stacking up last night's dishes, possibly in preparation to wash them. He also catches the heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

Byron turns for something, notices Riley out of the corner of his eye, and jumps. "Mornin'," he greets him.

"Morning. What are you doing?"

"Gettin' a start here. Not before coffee though. Only thing I know how to make. Want some? How'd you sleep?" It seems as though he's rambling a bit.

"Yes please. I slept fine. Little bit of a headache though." Riley takes a coffee cup gratefully. It's strange, they have shared mornings before — several months' worth in the past, and just the other day on Iron Island. In the context of a date, however, it's a little awkward… and a little thrilling.

He insists he'll take care of the dishes later, because Riley has done enough already. Riley complies and decides to get breakfast at his hotel, as well as check on his pokemon. Despite knowing that it's time to go, he's reluctant to leave.

"So," he says as they pause by the door, "did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," Byron admits. "Was nice."

"I'm glad. Do you think you want to do another one?"

Byron's thick eyebrows press together, and he emits a low, thoughtful grumble. Riley's heart skips a fearful beat. "I do," he says, "but I think we should order in. Or go someplace. Someplace nice."

Riley beams. "I liked staying in, though. It was cozy. All things considered." He bends his thumb, still in last night's bandage.

"Heh, yeah…" He scratches the back of his neck, looking all bashful again. It's frankly adorable.

"Byron." Riley decides to push his luck. "May I kiss you?"

His brown eyes go wide. His breath hitches, and he simply stares at Riley for a few seconds before nodding. So Riley leans in close and pecks his lips, heedfully chaste. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm.

He smiles shyly as Byron continues to stare. Still wide-eyed, maybe a little stunned. That is, until he seizes Riley by the shoulders and kisses him again — fiercely, urgently, anything but chaste. Byron's rough hands move up along his neck so his thumbs can stroke along his jaw. Now Riley is stunned. Byron's kiss is the thundershock that paralyzes him, and his surprisingly gentle touch makes him melt.

" _Ay,_ " Riley whispers when their lips at last part. " _Ay Dios mio._ "

"Heh… you shoulda said something like that first."

"Oh, you like it? _¿Te gusta? ¿Quieres mas?_ "

"Aw, goddamn," Byron mumbles, and it's obvious he loves it.

With a light laugh, Riley kisses his cheek. "Next time. Say, tomorrow night?" Byron nods in agreement. "You know what? We still need to have our battle. I can't believe we didn't do that."

The veteran gym leader looks utterly dumbfounded. "We didn't. How did we forget to _battle_ , of all things?!"

"I wonder." Riley smirks.

"That's it, you're gonna meet me at my gym tomorrow!" Byron announces, getting all fired up. "I hope you kept your pokemon in good shape all these years, 'cause I made mine stronger every single day! An' the loser has to buy dinner!"

"Oh, it's on. Hope you don't get too distracted, _querido_." He steps out on that note, leaving Byron stammering, unable to retort.


End file.
